


Countdown

by ConnorProject2K17



Series: Falsettos is Sad-but you knew that [2]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnorProject2K17/pseuds/ConnorProject2K17
Summary: The New Years Marvin's spent, with and without Whizzer





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> Scream at me about musicals on my tumblr, jds-therapist

The first New Years Marvin spent with Whizzer was an… awkward one to say the least. He’d shown up on the other man’s doorstep at ten pm, drenched in rain with his head hung. This was just shortly after his and Trina’s divorce, and he wasn’t sure where he stood with her. But he did know, although nothing had been said, he definitely wasn’t allowed back home for a while.

When Whizzer opened the door, he gave the shorter man a once over, and smirked. He wasn’t one to spend New Years with ‘friends’, but Marvin didn’t count. They weren’t friends. They were fuck-buddies, if you will. Lovers, if you want to be romantic. Which Whizzer was.

“Trouble in paradise?” was the first thing he said as he let Marvin in, ignoring the rain pelting into his apartment. Marvin could pay for damages. That’s all he was for, really. To pay for things, in exchange for sex.

Marvin gave a forced laugh, and shrugged his coat off. It fell to the floor, and Whizzer frowned.

“Could you pick that up?” He asked, not-so-sweetly. No response. Sighing, he bent over and placed the coat on the small table in the front room.

Marvin had coat pegs in his hallway, Whizzer remembered suddenly. He quickly became aware of his small apartment, compared to Marvin’s Suburban House.

Marvin looked around the room with tired eyes, and was surprised at the difference in environments. Whizzer was so stylish, so particular about how things should look. This house-this flat was so… not that. The walls were an ugly shade of mustard yellow, the carpet was beige. There were no pictures, no decorations. Not even any mirrors. The kitchen, sitting room and dining room were all squashed into one. The ceiling was so low Marvin could’ve touched it if he tried.

“You’re, um, home is…” he turned around, and watched as Whizzer had to duck to get through the doorway. It would have been funny if he wasn’t so alarmed.

“Yeah, it’s a shithole,” Whizzer sighed, striding closer. For a moment Marvin thought he was going to kiss him but the taller man just collapsed onto the sofa beside him. It creaked as he sat down, and the definite sound of a spring breaking made Marvin wince.

“Are you… are you okay?” he heard himself ask, and immediately wanted to bash his head through a wall. They didn’t ask those sort of questions. They didn’t care about each other.

Whizzer gave him a strange look, and leaned further back. Placing his arms behind his head, his shirt rode up, giving Marvin a nice view to his midriff.

“I’m fine.” he said, raising an eyebrow, and reached over for the remote control on the armrest. Turning on the tv, soft music poured through the room, serving as background noise. Marvin sighed, and sat down next to the taller man. Neither said anything, Whizzer focusing stubbornly on the dull radio station, Marvin trying to find a position that didn’t have lumps prodding into him. He gave up rather quickly, and turned to his… lover? Partner?

“I’d ask if you want to spend New Years at mine, but i’m not really allowed home at the moment.” he admitted, trying to sound clever and snarky. It just came across as sad.

Whizzer laughed without humour, and tiredly dragged his eyes away from the television.

“So what, you thought i’d just let you in?” he asked, giving Marvin a haughty look. Marvin rolled his eyes, a habit he had to break, and crossed his arms. Neither of them said anything.

Marvin opened his mouth, ready to say ‘forget it, I’ll find a hotel’, when something on his thigh made his yelp. Looking down, he saw Whizzer’s hand slowly trail up his leg, crawling closer to his crotch.

“Well if you’re going to stay…” Whizzer sighed, like he was being forced. Marvin cleared his throat awkwardly, watching the hand make small patterns on his khakis, making him shiver in expectation.

Without really thinking about it, he placed his own hand on top, stopping Whizzer from going any further.

“Let’s not,” he muttered, avoiding the man’s gaze, “just…I can’t, not tonight.”

Whizzer frowned deeply, and snatched his hand away. He was ready to throw Marvin out, telling him to go home to his wife, and that he was too busy for sex anyway.

But then he saw the defeated look in Marvin’s tired eyes. The rawness and vulnerability that he’d tried so hard to hide came pouring out, and before either of them knew it, Marvin was crying.

Whizzer stayed frozen on the sofa for what felt like an hour, watching helplessly. Marvin didn’t cry. He just didn’t. He was the epitome of the Modern American Hero, he was brimming with insecure masculinity and internalised homophobia. Not once in all the years Whizzer had known him, had he shown a softness like this. Well, while he was sober, anyway.

Marvin hiccuped,tears running down his red face, and suddenly Whizzer jumped into action. He hurried into the next room, grabbing for tissues, and his One Good Pillow, and that bar of chocolate he’d been saving. Rushing back into the sitting room, he placed the all on the leaning, filthy coffee table, and sat back down. Marvin hadn’t moved, his body shuddering as he muffled his chokes with his hand. Whizzer considered holding the other man, but decided against it. He didn’t want to push it.

“Can I… can I touch you?” he asked, hovering a hand in the air. Marvin looked up, eyes red raw, and sniffed loudly. Whizzer would have said something about getting his sofa dirty, if this was the time or the place. Or of his sofa wasn’t already beyond repair.

Marvin nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and Whizzer gently placed a hand on his back. Marvin leaned into the touch, taking in deep breaths as he tried to calm down.

“Do you want me to get you… something?” Whizzer asked, and almost winced at how pathetic he sounded. Marvin nodded, soft hair falling over his face. Reaching out, Whizzer brushed it back.

“Um, a,” Marvin sniffed again, and rubbed his nose with the back of his sleeve. Whizzer didn’t say anything. “A cup of tea, maybe?”

“Sure,”

Whizzer wasn’t sure how he got into this position. Making a cup of tea for his crying lover, ten minutes before 1978 ended. It felt so domestic. Is this what Marvin wants? To be cared for, and looked after, and have someone to comfort him?

As Whizzer placed the teabag in the cup, he paused, and looked out from the kitchen to the sofa. Marvin had stopped crying, and was rubbing his arm uncomfortably. A warm glow appeared in Whizzer’s chest, and a small smile crossed his face. He could do that. He wasn’t exactly used to caring for others, being brought up in a Dog Eat Dog world. But he could help Marvin, if Marvin would help him.

Finishing making the tea, with that stupid smile still etched across his face, Marvin made his way back into the sitting room, and handed it to him.

Marvin looked up, didn’t smile, and took it. His barriers were back up, Whizzer realised. He wasn’t going to thank him.

“It’s cold.” was all Marvin said, and Whizzer frowned.

Marvin didn’t want someone to care for him. He wanted someone to clean up after him.

Whizzer turned back to the television, all traces of a smile gone, and watched silently as Times Square counted down to zero.

All hopes 1979 would be better than this.

**Author's Note:**

> Will continue, don't worry.  
> Leave a comment below!!


End file.
